


Possession

by berlitzschen



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Bodily Harm, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Smut, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlitzschen/pseuds/berlitzschen
Summary: A series of stunts, some of which are intentional, that drive Rick to his breaking point, and one that finally breaks him.





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> We need more possessive Rick, motherfuckers.

Rick and Morty were on a simple errand to the Citadel. Just in and out. Rick had to talk to a Rick from dimension RN-30 but the fuckface insisted they meet in _Glory Morty._ Which, yeah whatever, Rick could tolerate that. The location wasn't the issue on its own. The problem was Morty was with him and he really didn't want to expose Morty to such . . . debauchery.

But it's not like he had a choice. So he brought the little turd with him because there was no way in Hell was he going anywhere without his shield/grandson.

They ambled down the alleyway leading to the club. Night was fast coming on the Citadel, painting the sky pinks and oranges. The street lights illuminated everything else in an ethereal blue-white light. For how sleazy the acts that went on in the club were, it was well-maintained and in a good district.

Rick hadn't said much the entire trip. Even when they were flying he kept quiet, taking sips from his flask and lazily piloting them. He took pull after pull in a feeble attempt to quell the nerves he didn't understand.

They arrived there and a muscled Bouncer Rick checked their dimension numbers and scanned for parasites. He offered Rick a blue wristband for his Morty, which he refused after some thought.  The Bouncer Rick raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Good luck,” he said as he let them inside.

The club was fairly dark, with the only light coming from the bars and pool tables in the center of the room. All along the walls were chairs and booths filled with various alien liquors and loud Ricks. Some music played overhead, but it wasn't unbearable, unlike so many other places. Most of the noise came from the Ricks talking amongst themselves or propositioning the servers.

And here was the part Rick was most afraid of.

The entire staff was made up of Morties of various sizes, species, and dimensions, all clad in little more than mini skirts and thin, mesh tops. The waistline of their skirts were stuffed tight with bills the patron Ricks slipped in while they ran their fingers over their bare skin. All the Mortys wore little blue bows tied around their necks and wrists. The carried trays stacked high with drinks and giggled as the Ricks all drunkenly complimented them. A few of them even sat on the tables or in the laps of the Ricks, indulging them for a few seconds.

As they walked to one of the back rooms RN-30 said he would be in, Rick wondered if maybe he should have accepted that wristband after all. The looks the other Ricks sent towards his Morty didn't go unnoticed. Maybe by his Morty they did—the little shit was too busy staring slack-jawed at all the Morties and the spotlights and the lavish-looking furnishes. He didn't notice the way the Ricks hung off of every swing of his hips, and every lick and nervous bite of his lips.

When they got the door another muscled Rick gave them one look and said: “No Mortys allowed”. Rick started to have second thoughts about it but he really couldn't wait. He didn't this information and it should only take five minutes. Ten if the bastard made him have a drink or six. But how much trouble could Morty get into in ten minutes?

Morty had already acquiesced to the Rick and made his way over to an empty seat at the bar. Rick swore but let him go. He’d make this quick. In and out, just like he said. Then they’ll be back home in no time.

It took him eight minutes. Eight fucking minutes to slam back three shots of Sorish Brandy—which didn't do anything to him—and get the information out of RN-30’s slurring lips. But somehow in eight fucking minutes, his Morty managed to draw the attention of every unoccupied Rick in the vicinity.

His Morty was, in a word, debauched.

His grandson had his ass in the lap of one Rick, his lengths stretched across another Rick’s, and a final Rick holding his feet, gently running his fingers along his ankles, working on hiking up the pant leg. He leaned his head against the Rick’s chest and allowed him to play with his hair. The kid looked totally blinded out. Having three Ricks touching him, and another two standing around complimenting him and running their fingers along his arms. One of them pushed another shot of something light and sweet to Morty’s lips and he watched in horror as the kid downed it and let the Rick wipe off the little traces of alcohol with his thumb.

But it wasn't until the other Rick holding Morty in his lap moved his hands down his abdomen and slipped them under his shirt—and Morty, the little asshole, tipped his head back _keened_ as the Rick nipped his ear—that Rick saw red.

He was across the room in five angry strides, wrenching Morty out of their grasps. He didn't realize he was doing it, but his hands shoved Morty’s shirt back down across his stomach. One of his hands gripped Morty’s waist, tugged him tight into his side, and the other hand wiped the spit off his ear and then combed through his hair like Rick could erase the memory of their hands on his body.

The five Ricks yelled at once: “What are you doing?” And “Who do. you think you are, pal?” Amongst a few, “He’s uncollared, buddy, which means he's fair game.”

C-137 told them all the shut the fuck up.

“This is _my,_ Morty,” he spat.

The one who previously had his lap filled with a wriggling grandson crossed his arms and scoffed.

“He may be from _your_ dimension, but you don't own him.”

Morty said his name and Rick’s grip only tightened.

“The fuck I don't. You cocksuckers better get your own Morties and keep your hands off mine,” C-137 snarled.

“He's not yours,” another Rick grinned, “besides, he liked it.”

Rick really, really wanted to whip out his atomizer and obliterate the fucker, but for some reason, he couldn't take his hands off Morty.

He didn't even give Morty the chance to walk on his own before he picked Morty up and stomped out of the club. Distantly he was aware that his grandson had wrapped his arms around his neck, no doubt in an attempt to make sure he didn't fall—laughable, really, like Rick would ever put him down now. He was also aware Morty was saying something—actually yelling something, and his tiny fists tugged and smacked against Rick’s back, but Rick didn't listen to him.

When they got back to the ship he tossed Morty into the passenger seat and downed an entire bottle of something cold and stale.

“God damn it, Morty,” was all he said as he climbed into his seat.

It was the first incident, and it took six more until Rick completely fucking broke.

 

 

* * *

 

The planet they were on had vaguely humanoid natives. Their hair colors ranged in the unnatural spectrum of blues and purples and some pinks, and their skin had more of a gray hue to it, but otherwise, they were fairly human-like. Two ears, ten fingers, the usual. A crown of expressive antennas that wasn’t so usual, but they’d seen species far more unusual. So Rick shouldn't have been surprised when Morty managed to find a female of the species only a year or so older than him, development-wise.

They needed to extract a rare ore from the planet but wound up getting attacked by some wildlife for their troubles. Rick had suffered a little cut on his cheek from the creature’s barbed tongue and they both took a tumble down a hillside, but otherwise, they were unharmed.

Some locals heard the shriek of the creature and rushed over with poison-tipped arrows and glittering swords. They tore the creature apart in no time, outflanking it and working through its blind spots. Morty threw up when he caught a glimpse of the creature’s pink blood and yellow organs spilling upon the earth as the inhabitants butchered the creature’s most useful parts.

The leader of their party approached them and offered to take them to their settlement. They claimed once night fell the more dangerous creatures on their planet would become active and not even they dared venture out and face them.

Morty accepted for them, of course, since their escort was the aforementioned female. Rick didn’t know if she was considered pretty for her species. It didn’t matter. She had a pulse and mammary glands which seemed to be all Morty’s little brain needed to know to be attracted to something.

They’d been in the camp for only a half an hour and already Morty had attempted a dozen or so weak come-ons, completely ruined by his stutter and nerves. Normally, that would have ended the situation. But it was just Rick’s luck that this girl was apparently intrigued by Morty and his pink, round little ears and small, non-jagged teeth. She fucking giggled every time Morty flubbed his speech and actually seemed endeared by the little weirdo.

There was only so much Rick could take.

Apparently, their sense of smell was _way_ stronger than humans and she was absolutely enraptured by the scent of Morty’s shampoo. Morty blushed but allowed her to bury her face into his hair. Then she started scenting down his neck and Rick ran straight into a spike helping support a tent.

He knocked the spike clean out of the ground, fell over from the pain, and ignored the startled cries of the aliens trapped inside a half-collapsed tent. As he writhed on the ground, his toe throbbing but certainly not broken, he called out “a little help” to his grandson.

Sure, he didn’t _really_ need help. And yeah, it was more of an excuse to get Morty to pay attention to him and get that insufferable girl off of him. But who could blame him?

Especially when the kid hadn’t even fucking blinked when Rick toppled into the grass. He was so preoccupied with the girl ogling over the fact that his blood was both blue _and_ read that Rick was pretty sure he could’ve taken his clothes off and humped one of the flanks of meat waiting to be spit-roasted and Morty _still_ wouldn’t have noticed.

What the hell did an old man have to do to get his grandson’s attention these days?

He picked himself off the ground, groaning at the grass stains marring his pristine lab coat and stomped back to the little tent the locals had offered them for the night. He grabbed Morty by the collar of his shirt and pretended he didn’t hear his meek protests.

“Where are you going?” The girl asked. Her antennas deflated as Morty was hauled away by Rick.

“He—urp—he gets scared of the dark. P-Pisses himself. I-I-I-It just gets fuckin’ _everywhere_. Tr-trust me, y-y-y-you don’t wanna mess around with piss shit. O-O-Our species’ urine is to—urp—xic. F-Fucking melt the tits right off ya’. C’mon, Morty, before you obliterate this whole camp with your freaky piss problems.”

At some point, Rick switched to dragging Morty by his wrist. As they made their way Morty’s complaints drew attention from the locals but they did nothing to intervene.

When they got to the tent Rick threw the flap open and shoved Morty onto the layers of pelts adoring the floor. Rick had to duck slightly in the tent, being taller than this species apparently reached. He shut tied the flap closed and flopped onto one of the small beds propped a few inches above the ground.

The thick leather of the tent shut out most of the light and muffled some of the sounds outside. A little glass jar sat in the middle of the room, filled with bioluminescent flora native to the planet. The leaves glowed a soft orange and cast Morty’s shadow over Rick’s form.

“Rick, what the Hell was that? Huh? Y-Y-You completely ruined my chances with her. Wh-why did you say that stuff, Rick?” It seemed the time it took them to get to the tent Morty’s anger had been replaced by pure hurt. His tone had morphed into a fucking _sulk_ that made Rick’s heart clench.

“Fuck you, Morty,” was all Rick said. He shut his eyes, hoping it would somehow make the kid drop it and go to bed. But of course, he didn’t.

Within seconds Morty was on top of Rick. For a little shit, he was pretty strong. Morty yanked Rick over by the shoulder. He towered over Rick from his position on the humble cot. Morty gripped Rick’s coat and shook him.

“S-Seriously, Rick. T-T-That was totally bullshit w-w-what you pulled back there. What gives?”

“W-what _gives, Morty? Huh? What gives?_ I’ll-I’ll-I’ll tell you what gives, you little shit. E-Ever since we got here you’ve been p-pestering that girl and you’ve been so distracted it’s distracting me, Morty. I-I-I bet you don’t even remember what we came here for.”

“O-Of course I remember what we came here for, Rick. W-We came to get that ore. A-And your dumbass couldn’t keep us safe from that thing and these nice people helped us, a-a-and that girl was into me and you’re so b-bitter or something that you can’t stand to see anybody else happy.”

Rick rolled his eyes and scoffed, “sure, Morty. Y-You figured it al—urp—l out. G-Good for you. Now, why don’t you go the fuck to sleep if you’re so fucking clever, huh? Take a hint and leave me the fuck alone.”

Morty crossed his arms, “t-then what is it, Rick? I-If I’m so stupid a-and you’re so smart then why don’t you enlighten me?”

Rick turned away from Morty and didn’t say anything.

Apparently, Morty wasn’t done testing his patience because he once again forced Rick over. “I’m not letting up on this, Rick. S-So you better just tell me or not gonna get to sleep tonight.” Morty sounded so smug it fucking grated against Rick’s old nerves.

They were already frayed from watching that girl basically fondle _his_ —his . . . his—whatever. Morty was _his_. And now the dipshit was rubbing Rick’s nerves rawer every time he forced contact between them.

Rick cursed his control and his reached out with both hands and pushed his grandson down on the floor. He climbed on top of him, grabbed both his slim wrists in one hand and covered his mouth with the other.

“You little bastard, you don’t understand _shit_!” Rick hissed into Morty’s ear. Beneath him, Morty squirmed. Rick sat on his thighs, effectively pinning the boy completely beneath his grasp. “I-I fucking saved our asses, Morty. W-We were completely fine and then you’re ready to give that girl some ‘thank you for saving my life’ sex? What the fuck is that shit, Morty? S-She didn’t even _do_ anything, Morty. I-It was the hunting party. And besides, I was literally just about to rip out my atomizer and scatter that thing’s molecules and I don’t even get a thank you? You’re willing to fuck that girl like she makes the sun rise and you can’t even spare your old Grandpa the time of day? I-I got this nasty-ass cut on my cheek shoving your ass out of the way a-a-and earlier I tripped over a stake. I-I-I could’ve impaled myself, Morty. B-But you wouldn’t have noticed because you were so focused on getting your dick wet.”

Morty had quieted during the duration of Rick’s rant. Finished, Rick huffed and uncovered Morty’s mouth, still not willing to let up his grip on his wrists. Beneath him, the boy’s eyes settled on anything but Rick, and he chewed his bottom lip and . . .

Shit.

Morty’s curls were all mussed from the tumble down the hill. And it probably hadn’t helped that Rick had tossed him around twice now.

He released his hold on Morty’s wrists and ran the hand through the boy’s brown locks, carefully picking out bits of grass and little twigs stuck in his grandson’s hair. After he was satisfied he settled his hands on either side of Morty’s face and shifted most of his weight onto them, concerned he might be smushing his boy.

Morty moved his arms and slowly wrapped them around Rick’s neck. He shifted up to press his chest against his grandfather’s and give him a proper hug. Rick was suddenly frozen. The heat of Morty against him, the constant, calming beating of his young heart, and the little sigh that eased between his lips and brushed against Rick’s ear as he said: “thank you” overwhelmed Rick.

Before he could fire his brain back up Morty had pulled away and propped himself up on one elbow and ran his thumb over the raised skin on Rick’s cheek that would surely scar. Almost as a flinch, Rick grasped Morty’s hand, gently easing it away from his face. Running his fingers over Morty’s  much smaller knuckles and fighting the urge to kiss each of them, he set the boy’s hand back down beside him.

“Y-You’re welcome, Morty,” Rick sounded too out of breath.

The orange light spun long shadows from Morty’s fluttering eye lashes.

Rick’s mouth went dry as his grandson let out a yawn and stretched, his yellow shirt slipping up his stomach and his body wriggling and he settled into the furs.

“W-We good, Rick?” Morty asked, rubbing his eye sleepily.

 _I’d be better if I got to_ — Rick cut his thoughts off and suddenly stood up and crawled into his bed.

“Yeah, Morty. W-We’re good.” Rick said. He sat on his back and studied the ceiling, not trusting himself to look at Morty again and not try something.

“G-Good,” Morty yawned again, “I’m just gonna sleep here. T-The floor’s pretty comfy a-and those beds are small.”

“S-Suit yourself, Morty.”

“Good night, Rick.”

Rick grunted back.

He realized he had fallen asleep and when he woke up and he was still in the bed, with half his legs hanging off the edge, but he wasn’t alone. Instead, the small form of his grandson pressed against his torso, one leg draped over his hip, and both hands clutching his coat. His head tucked under Rick’s chin and perhaps the part that made his stomach flip flop was the absolutely exquisite warmth he felt everywhere Morty’s body connected to his.

He didn’t even realize it at first but his hands had settled around Morty’s waist and dipped under his clothes.

He laid like that until Morty began rousing from his sleep. Rick closed his eyes and pretended his heart didn’t flutter when Morty let out a cute little whine and he vehemently denied that his heart stopped when he felt his grandson press a small kiss over the cut on his cheek.

And this was only the second incident.

 

* * *

 

At approximately two in the afternoon last Sunday everything, in a few words, went to shit. Rick and Morty were in the garage just like any old day. Morty passing Rick screwdrivers and fetching batteries and Rick assembling something beyond the boy’s comprehension and taking the occasional sip from his flask.

But then the clock switched over to two-twelve, a crackling, purple portal apparated in the Smith-Sanchez’s garage, and Rick saw Morty tugged the portal by a blue arm. He couldn’t even swear before the portal disappeared, leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur.

Oh, and a little sphere. Before Rick could decide which weapon was best for obliterating the potential threat, it beeped three times and split in half. A vapor slipped out and coalesced into an image, rippling gently in the slight breeze.

“Hey, Rick,” an all too pleased voice filtered in, along with the facade of  a blue skinned alien, with three yellow-tipped antennas—one of those nipple people Unity assimilated, although judging by the condition of his sclera, he must have been off-planet when it was taken over. “I’ll make this quick since you don’t have a lot of time. Since inorganic materials can’t pass through my portals, I need you to send me your matter collapser rifle, for starters. A courier flap will be at your location in an hour and if you don’t try something stupid, I’ll consider not cutting your Morty open from stomach to throat.”

This fucker was completely out of his mind. No one fucked with a Rick Sanchez or his Morty, least of all the fucking _Rogue’s_ Morty. He’d have the entire planet this piece of shit occupied in a black hole by nightfall.

“Listen here, you cone-nipple bastard—”

The blue-haired alien rolled his eyes, pulled Morty into view with one hand and plunged a dart-sized, serrated razor just underneath his collar bone. Morty screamed, tears trailing down his face, and Rick watched in horror as the razor was completely buried into his grandson’s flesh. The alien kicked Morty’s feet out from under him and once again Morty was out of frame.

“First of all, I have concentric-nipple rings. Second of all, that was pretty stupid.”

Rick could still hear Morty’s cries. Apparently, the alien wasn’t a fan of them because he suddenly kicked and Rick heard something crunch and another scream rip from his grandson’s mouth.

“ _I_ don’t give a _shit_ about your Morty. He’s just a run-of-the-mill, underfed rat.” The alien held another one of the razors up for Rick to inspect. “You see this? They go in easy,” he smirked, lightly tapping the narrow tip, “but,” he paused as he ran his fingers along the rapidly widening divots, curved backward like shark teeth, “they are a total _bitch_ to get out. You basically have to cut out all the surrounding tissue in order to get them out. And Rick. I have _a lot_ of these, and Mortys have _a lot_ of skin. Unfortunately they don’t have nearly as much blood, but that’s more your problem than mine. Do you understand your situation now, Rick? You done being stupid?”

Rick was too afraid if he opened his mouth he would say something that would make the fucker shove another blade into his Morty. He just nodded and the alien grinned.

“Excellent. I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to know you shouldn’t try to ruin the guns or pull some fake shit on me. Or well, you know, you won’t have much of a grandson left. Or maybe you’d like him with a couple more holes.” The alien did something Rick couldn’t make out. It was out of the field of vision the hologram permitted him. Wherever they were, it appeared to be a factory or maybe an underground bunker in some piss-port sector of the galaxy. But wherever he was, Rick would find him. “I’ll check back in an hour or so Rick, after I’ve made sure everything is all sorted with the weapons. Then we’ll start with the next supplies I need and go from there.”

The hologram evaporated and the sphere realigned itself, the seam disappearing completely. It rolled against Rick’s foot and he set the object on the work table. What he really wanted to do was hurl the thing at the wall but he was afraid of losing the only link to Morty he had.

Instead, he downed a bottle of something rancid and smashed it on the edge of the table. Pieces of glass scattered, some embedded in his face and cut his hands but he couldn’t feel it. Morty’s anguished cries still rung in his ears even after he swallowed the contents of another bottle and spilled some on his shirt—why the fuck were his hands shaking so much?

Halfway through the third bottle he calmed down enough to figure out what he needed to do.

He gathered the matter collapsing rifles, all six of them, and all two dozen vials of ammunition. The courier flap arrived in what seemed like no time at all and didn’t speak as Rick shoved the weapons and ammo into its gelatinous form. The courier flap took off to the western sky and disappeared out of Rick’s view.

One of his watches read three-oh-six.

Since courier flaps traveled at roughly the speed of sound and they couldn’t cross dimensions, Rick knew with a little bit of math and trajectory, he could pinpoint the distance and direction the thing originated from. But Rick didn’t know at what time the alien sent the courier flap. And depending on how long it took him to examine the weapons it could skew the timetable completely but there weren’t that many habitable planets in this sector of the galaxy.

Rick considered slipping a tracking device in one of the guns or even on the courier flap itself but he couldn’t risk endangering Morty. He’d get through this and obliterate that piece of shit but he’d do it with as minimal damage to his grandson as possible.

He hadn’t seen that particular alien in a long time and frankly, he didn’t expect he’d ever be fucked over by Masy Kallerax. But here he was, sitting in what remained of his liquor stash, without his one and only Morty, and only a handful of options.

He occupied his time working feverishly on a few different plans, glancing between the clock and the sphere every couple of minutes. His heels bounced on the floor, anxious in a way they hadn’t been in years. The tremor in his hands spread like a poison through his body and his entire frame was wracked with the same terror.

Suddenly he pitched forward. Barely managing to catch himself, chest tightening and struggling to breathe despite having plenty of air, Rick forced himself onto his back. Ignoring the shards of glass pressing into his body he began taking deep breaths. It was a fucking struggle. Normally as he counted he could inhale, hold, and exhale for eight seconds each. Right now he gasped around each breath, barely managing to count to two, and completely unable to hold onto the air for any length of time before his shuttering chest forced it out again.

He pressed the palm with bits of glass stuck in it into the garage floor. Pain shot along his nerves and up his arm and gave him something more immediate to focus on.

As he came down, his breathing returning to something close to six seconds, he cursed himself. Morty was in a far worse situation than he was, probably scared, probably wondering if Rick was going to save him. He had no idea if the piece of shit had done anything since the hologram cut off.

The sphere started beeping again and Rick quickly wrote down the time before he even acknowledged the thing. It was split once again, the vapor condensing to form the image of the alien and a satisfied smirk on his face. Rick could see weapons dismantled on the table beside him.

“You follow orders pretty damn good. That saves your Morty another hole. For now.” Masy went over a much longer and more intricate list of demands this time. Again, Rick bit his tongue, knowing any discooperation or snark on his part wasn’t worth the ramifications Morty would receive on his behalf.

Masy really had figured out the best way to get to Rick. He didn’t give a shit about his own body or really his own life half the time. And pain was a fucking joke to him. Most of the time the alcohol he imbibed was enough to turn a bullet wound into an annoying burn.

But Morty.

Morty wasn’t calloused like Rick. He felt even verbal assaults as fully as anyone could. And the pain Rick experienced watching his grandson, his Morty, his _baby_ get beaten and completely unable to stop it tore Rick open like a needlemouthed strangler from the beta system.

And he was stolen from his garage, practically right out of Rick’s very arms. Rick knew it, but Morty wasn’t supposed to. He was too young to realize he’d never truly be safe. Anything could happen at any time. It didn’t matter what planet or what dimension you were in. And Rick thought, he _stupidly_ thought that Morty would be relatively safe so long as he was within Rick’s reach.

But he could no longer comfort himself with that thought. He couldn’t protect Morty.

But he could get him back.

After the courier flap returned and he sent of Masy’s second set of supplies, Rick brought up a map of the galaxy and labored over calculations, accounting for things like deceleration when entering planet atmosphere and obstacles like asteroid fields.

It took him all the way until the fourth round of supplies—thank God courier flaps could only carry so much at one time—until he was able to find the exoplanet Masy was no doubt occupying.

It was a little planet, slightly smaller than Pluto, on the edge of the quadrant. It was mostly uncivilized, most of the planet’s land being inhospitable desert and steep mountains. Once he portaled to the planet he could find Morty if he was within at least a ten-mile radius using a DNA tracker.

Normally the device’s range was limited to that distance as it took too long to scan through all organic lifeforms and filter them out—not to mention if it had to sort through hundreds of Mortys in a place like the Citadel—but since the planet was mostly devoid of life, Rick figured he could expand the search parameters to at least a hundred, maybe a two-hundred mile range.

Worse case scenario, it would take him twenty minutes scanning through bedrock to locate his grandson and portal to his exact location.

He grabbed one of the few weapons he had left, a freeze taser, which wasn’t his first choice, and yeah, it certainly wouldn’t give him the fear-inspiring opening he craved right now, but it wouldn’t kill Masy. And the last thing Rick wanted to do was kill him. He portaled to the surface of the world. He would have a maximum of forty-six minutes before Masy called back and discovered he wasn’t there.

He only had to portal around the world a few dozen times before the DNA tracker chirped at him. His grandson was twenty meters west and about a hundred meters down. Rick shrugged, typed in the coordinates only off by a few degrees so he wouldn’t portal in the middle of Morty’s stomach and leap blindly through the portal.

He landed on the work desk his weapons had previously occupied and froze Masy mid-yelp.

“Morty!” Rick called, looking around frantically.

“Rick!” A strained voice called from under one of the adjacent tables. Morty would have ran into Rick’s arms if it hadn’t been for the iron nail driven through his foot, pinning him to the spot.

His grandson sobbed as Rick kneeled down and cupped his face.

“Hey, hey. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here-I’m here. Y-You’re okay. You’re gonna be, okay, Morty. You’re such a good boy, Morty. I-I don’t want to do this babe but I have to, okay? I’m gonna have to remove the stake. O-Otherwise we won’t be able to get you to a hospital, okay?”

Morty shuddered but nodded. He sniffled hard, his skin soaked in sweat from hours of slow blood-loss, but it wasn’t life threatening. He only had the stake, the one razor, and possibly a fractured rib. They’d get into a hospital, he’d be given an IV and taken to surgery, but he would be okay.

“I’m so proud of you, Morty,” Rick said as he wiped the tears from his grandson’s eyes, “I’m gonna do it now, Morty. R-Real fast, okay? J-Just like ripping off a band-aid. Only it’s a three-inch-thick piece of metal.

“W-Wait, Rick.” Morty hiccuped and grabbed one of Rick’s hands. Interlocking his fingers with Rick’s and gripping his grandfather’s  wrist with his free hand, Morty took a deep breath and nodded. “O-Okay. I’m ready,” he said and offered a pained smile.

Rick squeezed Morty’s hand. “Breath in, baby.” Morty sucked in a shaky breath and Rick gripped the stake. “Now breathe out.” As Morty exhaled Rick tore the metal stake from his foot as straight as he could manage. The noise the action drew from his grandson’s mouth made Rick flinch but he endured. Tossing the stake away, Rick gathered Morty in his arms, careful not to jostle any of his injuries, and opened a portal.

Morty whined and wrapped his arms weakly around Rick, groaning at the pain that shot up his arm from his collar bone. His breaths were uneven and his left lung was clearly struggling.

Almost immediately a few alien nurses appeared with a stretcher and Rick gently set Morty down, cradling his head and brushing the hair on his face. Rick walked with them as they wheeled his grandson into an operating room.

“S-Stay with me, Rick,” Morty begged. More tears welled at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill down. It twisted like a sword through Rick’s heart and in that moment he had never wished so strongly that he could just stay there. He never wanted to leave Morty alone again.

“I can’t come into surgery with you, baby,” his voice broke a little as he said it, “it’ll be over before you know it. Y-You’ll be knocked out and you’ll wake up two seconds later and you’ll be all fixed up.”

“P-Please, Rick,” Morty sobbed and grabbed weakly at his grandfather, who disappeared behind a set of doors, looking just as miserable as Morty felt.

Rick was right. Of course he was. A nurse placed a mask over his face and instructed him to count back from ten. He was out before he finished the number eight and the next thing he knew he was in a bright room, with a few tubes sticking out of one arm, his injuries bandaged up and not aching in the slightest, and the form of his grandfather slumped across his lap.

“Rick?” Morty’s voice was rough and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton but otherwise he felt pretty normal.

Rick roused and as he leaned up, his breath caught in his throat, seeing his grandson’s face not contorted in pain since what felt like ever to his old heart. Rick wanted to wrap his grandson in a hug and never let him go but he hesitated, afraid he would hurt him. He settled instead for cupping his face and pressing dry kisses atop his head.

“I’m so sorry, Morty,” he desperately murmured between kisses, “I let this happen to you.”

Morty shook his head and pulled his grandpa into a hug.

“Morty,” Rick weakly protested, not daring to move his arms, “I-I don’t wa-wanna—I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Morty’s voice was muffled by Rick’s lab coat but unmistakably he said: “y-you could never hurt me, Rick.” He pulled away slightly, so he could see his grandfather’s face, and Morty’s mouth fell open ever so slightly. His grandfather was shaking and his eyes were wet and red.

Wanting to reassure his grandfather, Morty gave him a lopsided smile and said: “it’s okay, Rick. I-I can’t even feel it. I-I think they have me on pain killers or something. I feel totally normal. So, it’s okay.”

Rick’s reaction was immediate. Without disturbing the IVs in his grandson’s forearm, Rick flipped them over so he was cradling Morty between his legs and held him tight to his chest.

“Y-Y-Y-You have no idea what that did to me, Morty. K-Knowing I couldn’t stop that piece of shit—he fucking—it doesn’t matter now, Morty. I-I’m not— _fuck, baby_ —I’m not ever gonna let you out of my sight again. I-I-I’m gonna fucking portal-proof the house. O-Only my gun will work in the vicinity. Shoulda done it a long time ago. I’m the smartest thing in the galaxy, Morty. A-A-A-And I didn’t think—I fucking couldn’t imagine someone taking you. Didn’t want to imagine it, Morty. I-It was too— _fuck_ —” Rick started hiccuping slightly. He didn’t know it was possible, but he hugged Morty even tighter. Maybe he could bind them together, keep his grandson safely locked inside his chest—he already occupied most of the space as it was. Maybe he could live there, now, his heart beating deep inside the inaccessible place between Rick’s ribs.

He felt Morty nuzzle and sigh into his chest. Stroking soothingly up and down his grandson’s back, through the thin hospital gown, both their breathing evened and slowed.

“I-It’s okay, Rick. You came for me. I-I knew you would,” Morty slipped his arms around his grandfather’s torso, practically melting into his embrace. “B-But I’m kind of tired, Rick. Is it okay i-if I sleep?”

Rick laughed weakly, “yes, of course, Morty. You do whatever you gotta do, babe. I-I’ll be right here, okay? A-And after you wake up, w-we can go get some ice cream and watch Ball Fondlers on the couch for the rest of the weekend. T-Take as long as you need, Morty. W-Whatever you want.”

Morty hummed in response and soon drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

The third time was probably the most difficult for Rick.

 

* * *

 

The school administration decided they would replace Morty’s two elective classes with consecutive study hall periods. His grade for study hall was determined based on an average of his other four classes. It didn’t really matter. They still counted for credits he could earn towards graduation.

Usually, Morty slept during his study hall.

For the last two hours of his school day he was trapped in the library. Staring blankly at the stack of overdue history assignments laid out before him, Morty nodded off. A little drool slipped out the corner of his mouth and he would deny with all he had that it wasn’t a trait he inherited from his grandfather.

A ruckus from the entrance of the library pulled him out of his little half-sleep. A class came in, obnoxiously ignoring the first rule of libraries. And just as his luck would have it, it was Jessica’s class. They were probably coming in to check out some books for research for their history paper Morty was also supposed to be writing.

It was one of those papers and that required the presence of mind to actually come up with a research topic—something Morty was incapable of doing since he couldn’t even focus on history long enough before he passed out from sheer boredom.

But this was something he could be awake for.

The class broke apart, some kids going to the computers to search up call numbers, others taking their chances with just ambling about the library until they stumbled onto something halfway interesting. Morty saw Jessica disappear behind a row of shelves in the ‘L’ department and Morty decided he would get up and try to get a few words in with her. Maybe alone he would finally have a chance. It didn’t look like Brad was anywhere in sight. Hell, he probably skipped half his classes—though, it’s not like Morty had much room to talk.

Going in a wide arc—a habit he picked up from his adventures with Rick, one of the best ways to avoid pursuers—Morty approached Jessica from slightly behind, making sure she could glimpse him from the corner of her eye. It wouldn’t do to freak her out. Although, admittedly, Jessica seemed much more chill than he was. She probably wouldn’t startle from someone suddenly sliding up next to her. Fuck, sometimes if somebody shut a door too hard Morty would jump.

Jessica wasn’t an anxious ball of fried nerves like Morty was. She was always so cool and collected. And she was nice and listened to what Morty had to say—well, until some musclehead sauntered over and almost swallowed her petite frame with their biceps. And those guys oozed of confidence, and guts, and aftershave. Kind of like someone else Morty knew.

He tried not to think about it.

He hadn’t even gotten one strand of hair on his face yet. Even his upper lip had yet to collect that weak-ass peach fuzz he saw kids even younger than him boast.

Clearing his throat, he slid into Jessica’s view.

“H-Hey, Jessica. W-Whatchya doing? Looking for a book?” _Oh, God, just shut up. Why are you like this?_ Morty cringed internally.

Jessica briefly glanced at him and gave him an easy smile before returning to her task of browsing the shelves.

“Oh, hey, Morty. Yeah. I’m writing a paper about how propaganda and manipulation of the press brought the U.S. into world war one. What are you writing about?”

“O-Oh, uh, j-just the history of spaceflight. Kinda dumb.” Morty rubbed the back of his neck.

Jessica shook her head. “No, it sounds really cool. What’s your thesis?”

“M-My what?” Morty cursed, _was that English? What dimension am I in? Ah, Geez._

Jessica just smiled at him. “Your thesis statement. History of spaceflight is just a topic. You’re supposed to prove something with a thesis statement and gather evidence to support it.” Jessica turned back to the shelves. She frowned and ran her fingers over the spines of two different books.

“I-uh, d-don’t have one of those yet. Kinda stuck on it. M-Maybe I need an easier topic.”

“Maybe,” said Jessica, distractedly, “hey, which do you think would be better: ‘WWI: The Homefront’ or ‘The Great War & The Roaring Twenties’?”

“W-Why don’t you just get both of them?” Morty inquired. He pulled one of the books from the shelf. It was the thinner of the two but it was easily three-hundred pages long. The plastic wrapping crinkled in his hands as he flipped through the pages. “T-They’re both probably great.”

Jessica sighed and leaned against the bookcase. “I already have two books checked out and they’re the only copies of the library has. If I return them I’m sure I won’t be able to get them back.”

“O-oh. Well, in that case, I-I could check these out for you,” Morty sheepishly offered.

Jessica immediately brightened. “You’re awesome, Morty. Thanks.”

“Yeah, n-no problem.” Morty hoped his blush wasn’t too obvious.

In the next few seconds, Morty’s arms were filled with three more books, coming up to his chin. Somehow the newest two were even bigger than the originals.

“You check out three of them and I’ll check out the other one,” suddenly she turned her side to side, “wait, if you’re checking out all these books, how are you going to be able to do your paper?”

“I-I’ll just use online sources,” he chuckled nervously, “I-I’m better at navigating a computer anyway.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I can’t ever find all the information to properly cite online shit. That’s why I’m sticking to books this time.”

Morty nodded and gave her a shy smile.

Behind the shelf to Jessica’s back, a couple of upperclassmen were fucking around. The bumped into the shelves and knocked a few books off the shelves. Jessica and Morty turned their heads just in time to see one of the kids shoved into the bookshelf, toppling it over.  

If Morty hadn’t been on so many adventures, he wouldn’t have the reaction time he did. Dropping the books, he leaped out the way, pulling Jessica with him. The bookshelf slammed into the next one in the row, knocking down two more in a cacophony of tumbling books and fluttering pages.

The angle Morty had dived at made it so he wound up underneath Jessica, breaking her fall. Her chest landed on his face—he really was a lot shorter than she—but luckily the fall knocked the breath out of him. He was too busy trying to bring oxygen back into his lungs that Jessica’s body on top of him wasn’t even alluring to him.

Well, there could be another reason for that, but Morty wasn’t going to think about it.

Above him, Jessica moved her hands to either side of his torso and pushed herself up just enough so she wasn’t lying directly atop of Morty.

“Wow, Morty,” Jessica breathed, “you totally saved me.”

Morty barely managed a squeak before a glowing green portal apparated on top of the collapsed shelves.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened here? Y-You know what? I-I don’t really care,” Rick took a pull from his flask and carefully walked across the mounds of books. “M-Morty? Fuck, you better not be buried under all this shit. I swear to God, Morty, if you’re hurt again, I’ll lose me fucking m—” Rick stopped as he looked around the library, passing lazily over the shocked faces of students and staff. All emotion slipped from his face when he spotted Morty with that girl he was so enamored with draped across his body. He swallowed what was left in his flask—which was almost half of it—and stalked over to his grandson.

Without saying a word, he tugged the girl up and pushed her away. He grabbed Morty by the front of his shirt, shot another portal, and tugged him behind him.

The portal closed and they were alone in the garage.

Still not saying anything, Rick released his hold on Morty. Trying to put some distance between them, he slipped to his knees and fished under the cabinets for his strongest stuff. He really, _really_ needed to focus on something else right now. Not the way his grandson looked flushed on the ground, with his legs splayed open—for someone that wasn’t him.

 _God damn it,_ Rick didn’t even bother drinking. He knew it was hopeless.

And stupid Morty came up behind Rick and settled a concerned hand on his shoulder.

“R-Rick? What’s the deal? Y-You need me for an adventure or something?” Morty moved from foot to foot. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was actually glad to be out of that situation. He had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do next. Being in Jessica’s vicinity was always so much pressure. His palms would get all sweaty and he couldn’t even imagine trying to kiss her. He’d either freeze or leak so much saliva he wound up choking her.

Meanwhile, when he was with Rick his mouth went all dry and no matter how many times he licked his lips he couldn’t quell the buzzing in them.

Rick had completely forgotten why he even went to get Morty in the first place. Sighing, he realized he didn’t even have a good reason. He just found himself out of ideas in his garage and couldn’t wait another hour and a half for Morty to get home from school to distract him. Liquor wasn’t even embracing him as sweetly as it once had. It didn’t matter how much he drank, and he didn’t particularly want to drink.

He wanted to taste something far more intoxicating.

Turning around he found his grandson with his head cocked slightly to the side, his curls fanning over his ears and framing his face. Rick stopped breathing when he saw a pink little tongue swipe across his grandson’s lips.

“What were you doing with her, Morty?” Rick asked, his voice level but the danger implicit. When Morty didn’t respond immediately, Rick reached down with one arm, unable to control himself, and pulled Morty into him by the waist.

The way Morty surrendered completely into his grasp, letting himself be tugged around like a ragdoll, made Rick both hot and pissed. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining all the people Morty would just let into his pants, indiscriminately. People and aliens that didn’t deserve Morty.

It was laughable. They couldn’t protect him like Rick could. They would never be able to collapse an entire star system just to show Morty the glorious sight of a thousand supernovas all intermingling together. Fuck them. Morty was his to show the universe to. And he wouldn’t allow some simple lifeform to give Morty heart palpitations. Others may be able to get Morty worked up and a little hot and squirmy—and even that image made Rick tighten his hold and pulled Morty between his legs—but he could unravel the boy and delight him with experiences most creatures couldn’t conceive of.

“Answer me, Morty,” Rick hissed. He used his free hand to tilt Morty’s head up by his chin.

Blinking a few times, Morty swallowed against the nervousness in his throat and stuttered out a defensive response. “I-I was just—the shelves collapsed and I didn’t want her to get hurt s-s-s-so I pulled her out of the way and she landed on me, Rick, a-a-and I didn’t—my back kind of hurt from the fall, y’know, I-I-I wasn’t focusing on her. A-A-And then you appeared and it didn’t even feel like she was there anymore.” While Morty spoke his eyes shifted around but now that he finished, he made tentative eye contact with his grandfather.

His heart fluttered at the intensity of the gaze Rick had affixed on him. Leaning forward on his toes, Morty pressed his chest against the taller man’s and his gaze flicked down to his grandfather’s lips, before hastily returning to his eyes.

“Rick?” The hand on his face slipped down to join the other at his waist and they both started squeezing in tandem, igniting the nerves all along his sides and making him shiver.

“Good, Morty,” Rick allowed himself to tilt his head down to his grandson’s ear as huffed out hot breath all along his neck, “you can’t afford to be expending your brain power on unimportant shit. Only me, Morty.”

Morty bit his lip to keep a moan from slipping out of his mouth. His knees felt weak so he fisted his hands into his grandfather’s coat. Tingles shot up his fingers at the contact and he couldn’t resist running his hands up and down the solid chest.

“Y-Yeah, Rick,” Morty whimpered, “o-only you. J-Jessica’s pretty cool but y-y-you—you’re _amazing,_ Rick.”

Rick rolled his eyes back into his skull and groaned. He wound one hand into Morty’s curls and wrenched his head back, baring the pale column of his throat and eliciting a gasp from the boy’s plump lips.

“That’s right, baby. Just me. Just you and me, forever and ever.”

If it was possible, Morty wiggled even closer to Rick. Surrounding him on all sides was Rick and he wanted nothing more than to disappear completely into him. And the sound of that, of the two of them, forever, until the end of time, made pleasure shoot up his spine so much so he couldn’t suppress his moan this time.

Wanting to close the last few inches of space between them, Morty pulled Rick down to meet his mouth.

But before they could collide, the sound of Jerry coming through the front door startled them five feet apart. Rick raked his fingers through his hair, grabbed a bottle of something and knocked it back while Morty uncomfortable waddled out of the room, trying to sneak up the stairs before his dad could see his excited state.

That fourth time almost brought them together. But because of Jerry’s piss-poor timing, Rick had to suffer through three more incidents before he finally snapped.

 

* * *

 

Rick should have learned after their last trip to the Citadel to leave Morty at home. He might've been a genius, but he was a fucking idiot. An irrational, passionate, idiot. Especially after the last few weeks. Rick couldn't take not tugging Morty along with him.

The boy soothed his nerves and made him less reckless. Having Morty at his side put things in perspective. And he couldn't keep himself from indulging his grandson. Especially when he was in such a pleasant mood.

Ambling around the Citadel, they'd already finished their business and Rick couldn't be happier. Everything had gone according to plan, no hang ups, no awkward encounters—and no Ricks trying to steal his Morty from him.

As they made their way back to the ship parked across the district they stopped for some lunch at a café staffed entirely by tired, barista Ricks. Rick wasn't even hungry but Morty had been griping for the last hour and he insisted he couldn't wait the hour trip it would take them to get back home. Rick made a show of rolling his eyes and hid his smile as they stepped into a little coffee house.

Sunlight delicately streamed through the windows and an air conditioner hummed in the background amidst the cluttered clangs of metal and the whirring of blenders. A few guard Ricks and Mortys sat along the windows, sipping black coffee and chatting. No one noticed them walking in. If they did, they didn’t care enough to turn and glance at them.

Except for the Rick manning the register. Two other Ricks slipped in and out of the kitchen behind him, carrying stainless-steel bottles and boxes of coffee grounds. Each of them wore a plain undershirt and an apron tied loosely around their hips. Toffee brown stains splattered their aprons like a piece of modern art. It seemed no matter which coffee house you went to, no matter the dimension, that artsy, hipster vibe clung to the atmosphere. The devil probably had something to do with it, now that Rick thought about it. Sure, you could have a successful business selling coffee and breakfast morsels, _but_ you have to name all the cups weird things and you must cater to douchebags wearing all-natural deodorant they made from honey and brown sugar.

The Rick at the register looked like one of these such douchebags. He had a dish cloth thrown lazily over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to elbows, showing off his taut forearms and strong hands. Hidden beneath his bunched up sleeve was an ornate black tattoo. In his ears he had a set of black plugs, and his hair was actually styled and probably even brushed. No self-respecting Rick actually put effort into their appearance. This guy was really the biggest dicklock this side of the Milkyway, which is why Rick ignored the way he looked at his Morty.

“Welcome,” he drawled, not giving any attention to the Rick. Instead, his half-lidded, pleased gaze was lazily drinking Morty’s every step.

C-137 handed Morty a ten dollar bill and sat down on one of the leather couches, giving him a clear view of the Rick draping his frame over the counter. It was easy to spot a Rick who wanted something. They all shared the same hungry look in their eyes. Rick would recognize this before he’d recognize his own ass.

But he ignored it because the guy was clearly a complete and total douchenozzle, and his Morty knew better than to consort with greasy, sultry Ricks.

Didn’t he?

Rick pulled out his flask and took a sip. Leaning back, his crossed his legs and decided he would watch. He had a suspicion Morty consciously _knew_ what he was doing. In the last few weeks, Rick had been wising up to Morty’s little vixen ways. Maybe he truly didn’t understand that batting his eyelashes and biting his lips at every Rick that so much as glanced at him was probably the best thing to do when trying to navigate the Citadel in a timely manner.

Rick watched as Morty stepped up to the counter. Crinkling the bill nervously in his fingers, Morty blinked up at the menu and paused.

“What can I get for you, sweetheart?” The Rick made a show of running his tongue over his lips.

C-137 couldn’t see from his angle, but his Morty was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. But that barista Rick noticed. He noticed it so much he missed what the kid said.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m afraid I missed that,” he said, leaning closer like he was hard of hearing, “could you repeat it?”

Morty gave a nervous smile. “O-Oh, that’s okay. I-I-I was just asking what you r-recommended. I don’t normally go to cafes. I don’t really even like coffee that much.”

C-137 watched as the barista Rick slowly ran a hand through his blue-gray hair in a way that had him exposing his neck and tugging the apron tight across his chest. He cracked his neck to either side and smirked.

“Depends on what you want,” he said, resting his head in his palm, he dropped his voice low and rumbling, not wanting the boy’s Rick to hear him, “something little and sweet or tall and nutty. Personally, I prefer tiny things that burst in your mouth, but,” he ran a thumb across Morty’s bottom lip, his breath hitching as they parted for him, “it all depends on what you can handle.”

“I-I-I’m pretty hungry,” Morty blushed. The Rick groaned softly.

“I bet you are.”

“Uhhhh, h-how ‘bout I just have a m-muffin?” Morty looked away shyly. He felt his Rick’s gaze on the back of his neck. It was obvious his grandfather needed a stronger reason to intervene. Morty was fairly surprised. By now he expected his grandfather to have hauled him away. But since it had yet to come, Morty figured he needed to step up his game.Turning back to his Rick, he gave him a sweet smile and even fluttered his eyelashes as he did so. Immediately, C-137 softened and turned to his flask.

“Blueberry or chocolate, shortstuff?” The Rick was already reaching under the display counter.

“B-both?”

Rick grinned lecherously, “two for one hungry baby boy.” He placed them both on the counter under a wax paper. They were those mega-muffins, about the size of a softball each. When Morty tried to hand him the bill, the barista Rick only shook his head.

“I don’t charge cuties.”

“D-Do you say that to all the Mortys that come in?”

“Just the cute ones.”

“O-Oh. Good. You wouldn’t make a lot of money, then.” Morty coyly smiled, pressing his body against the counter. He brushed his fingers along Rick’s as he took the muffins. He made a completely over-the-top coquettish show of slipping the money into his back pocket. Morty leaned up on his toes and whispered into the Rick’s ear.

C-137 couldn’t hear what Morty said. He couldn’t even read his lips. He was almost relieved when Morty started walking toward him. But that was before he watched in horror as the Rick tugged off his apron and told his supervisor he was taking his break, before following _right_ behind Morty. Not shy in the least, the barista let his eyes wander all over the boy’s thin form, settling on his ass and hips appreciatively. When he caught C-137’s eyes he openly grinned and Rick felt his blood boil.

Morty gingerly sat down on the couch across from Rick. He placed his food atop the coffee table and settled into the seat. Obviously, the cocky Rick knew what he was doing. Oozing sleaze and dominance, he flopped down on the couch directly across from Rick. C-137 shot him a glare but that didn’t deter him. If anything, it motivated him even further. He yawned, spread his legs, knocking his knee and pressing his thigh all along Morty’s. Slinging his arm over the back of the sofa, he twined his fingers into the boy's curls, holding eye contact with C-137 the entire time.

And Morty, the little piece of shit, didn’t seem to notice it at all. He just sat there, greedily eating his muffins. Crumbles fell over his lap and clung to his face. The barista tisked, leaned forward—arm still around his grandson, effectively wrapping him from all sides—and wiped the crumbs from his mouth. Morty blushed and licked his lips, catching the tips with his tongue and fucking _giggled._

_What the fuck?_

Had he grabbed the wrong Morty this morning? Did a different one kill him and take his place so he could torment Rick by acting like a total slut with strange Ricks?

Time slowed as the barista Rick reached his free hand now to Morty’s lap and began brushing the bits of muffin off his leg, then his thigh, and then finally settling—

Rick shot up from the couch and lept over the glass table. With both hands he wrenched the barista away, squeezing his throat and hissed into his face.

“You must be really fucking worthless Rick if you’re so disgustingly brazen. What kind of piece of shit goes around fucking groping another Rick’s Morty? Do you even know who I am? Huh? Do you know what Rick  _he belongs to?_ You really willing to fuck around with _me_? I’m the fucking rogue, bitch. ”

The barista’s grin only widened. They’d attracted the attention of the other staff members and patrons, but no one moved. Except for Morty. He wrapped his arms around his Rick’s back and tugged him away.

“Let’s go, Rick.”

Rick had to turn and look at his grandson because he couldn’t believe the tone he heard in his voice. The kid was fucking grinning. A self-satisfied look took over his features as he pulled his Rick away by the wrist. Rick surrendered, as if under a trance. Sashaying his hips, his grandson beckoned him away from what was about to be a murder with too many witnesses. Once they got out of the coffee shop, something cleared in Rick’s head. He suddenly tugged Morty back and gripped him by the shoulders.

“Wh-what the fu—urp—ck was that, Morty? W-W-What were you trying to pull in there?” Rick pushed the boy up against the brick storefront. The kid totally wanted Rick to lose control. He was _counting_ on it.

Morty laughed, “did it work, Rick?” he ducked out from under his arm and shot off toward the place where they’d parked the ship.

“Y-You little shit. G-Get the fuck back here! You think I’m done with you, Morty? You don’t even _know_!”

The fifth time Rick realized his grandson was playing him for a fool and he vowed not to get duped again.

 

* * *

 

 

Rick had never considered himself petty. Years of exploring the infinite turned planetary tragedies into eyerolls. He didn’t focus on meaningless shit—the drivel most lifeforms occupied their limited days with. He wasn’t _calloused_ , he was smart. It wasn’t pessimism, it was realism. The ideal and the above always fell away behind the practical and the immediate pleasures and sensations of the moment. This, probably coupled with a family history, was the main reason why he gave into his passions and whims. Most humans were like that.

Rick just happened to be smart enough to spend his life chasing each high with another bender. He had the capability to revolve his life around only the things which brought forth immediate satisfaction, and plenty of reason to avoid things which bothered him.

So, yeah, he could be petty. Especially when he was unable to ignore the thing that was causing him discomfort. It brought forth moods he seldom exhibited.

In this case, the thing was his grandson, and the mood was pout.

Late last night—technically early this morning—they’d gone on to some forbidden star system. Rick brushed off Morty’s worries and insisted they would be just fine, that the cops hardly ever patrolled this sector. Morty griped the whole way about if the planet they were visiting was oh so safe then why was it forbidden? Rick told him it was bullshit federation politics that would take too long to explain and left it at that.

All he needed was a fifty-gallon drum of the world’s native pink liquid that acted as their version of water. They found a river easily enough and Morty crawled down the slope and held the bucket against the current. Morty’s insistent questioning about how they were going to drag fifty gallons up the slope— _with a shrink ray, you idiot_ —must’ve attracted the attention of some locals who were admittedly a bit spooked to encounter such strange lifeforms.  

He told Morty to drop the bucket and run. The natives fired from their plasma rifles but Rick already had a portal open. Rick pulled the boy out of the bank and they fell through the portal, as the kid somehow apparently decided he should knock his grandfather out of the way of a blast. It grazed Morty’s shoulder and incinerated the yellow material around it but otherwise didn’t go deeper than the first layer of flesh.

Rick had to stitch him but it was fairly easy to do. Injecting Morty with a painkiller enabled him to get the job done with minimal blubbering. It was fine. The kid was fine and so Rick should’ve been fine.

Except it was almost seven at night now and Rick still hadn’t spoken to him.

He knew it was petty but he couldn’t help himself. Getting drunk wouldn’t help and neither would sobering up. He didn’t want to deal with the gross, twisting in his gut, or the way his heart almost stopped when he saw the smattering of red blood along his grandson’s collar.

They ate dinner in complete silence. The family definitely noticed but decided not to mention it. Jerry actually seemed enthused by it. He blathered on about nothing in particular with Beth nodding at all the right parts and Summer laughing every once in awhile. Rick was in such a foul mood he wouldn’t devote even five percent of his brain power to giving his insufferable son-in-law a tongue-lashing. He pushed his potatoes around with his fork and speared his steamed vegetables with so much force they split and fell right back on his plate.

Soon it was only him and Morty at the dinner table. His mood had driven everybody to gulp down their food and slinking off into some far corner of the house to get ready for the movie they were going to see. Except for Morty. Rick didn’t dare move and Morty seemed to be waiting for him to.

Rick couldn’t see it, but Morty very deliberately dropped his fork under the table and slipped off his chair to go retrieve it. Disappearing under the table, Rick didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge Morty, but his eyes widened and he stalled eating when he felt the kid’s backside slide ever so slowly against his thigh.

Ordinarily, he would’ve thought nothing of it but it wasn’t just a slight brushing. No, it was planned and obvious. It felt like the kid was trying to scratch an itch.

Technically, in a way he was.

Morty emerged from the table and Rick didn’t spare him a glance. As the kid took his plate around the counter and placed it into the sink, Rick stole a sneaky glance at his slim hips and small ass. Angrily, he stabbed the last piece of zucchini on his plate and plopped it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as the pale expanse of his grandson’s hip bone revealed itself to him, normally hidden under that horrible yellow shirt.

His feet moved without him telling them to. He took his empty plate and deposited into the sink without looking. Morty turned and leaned against the counter as he drank another glass of water, exposing the column of his throat as he gulped the beverage down like a greedy bitch. Apparently he wasn’t being that greedy, since he let some spill out the corners of his mouth and slip down his chin and neck. Pulling the glass away from his mouth, he made one of those satisfied sighs athletes did when they took their first drink after hours of running around. Although, Morty somehow made it sound a lot more pleasured than it ought to be.

Lolling his head against the cabinet, Morty squeezed his knees together, pressing his thighs and groin tight against his denim, like he was just begging for something or _someone_ to relieve him of the offensive clothing.

Rick actually dropped his glass in the sink and it shattered into a handle of pieces.

“Shit,” he cursed and carefully reached down and starting plucking the pieces of glass out.

Morty came up right next to him and leaned his body against Rick’s, like he needed to do so in order to see. The boy cupped his hands in offering but Rick took one look at them and ignored them. He filled his own hand with the chunks of glass. Not only did he not want to risk hurting Morty again, but also didn’t trust himself to get that close to his small hands and not shove them along the underside of his increasingly interested cock.

 _Fuck off, this isn’t a good time,_ as if it would listen.

Rick walked across the kitchen to the garbage and tossed the glass into it. When he turned around Morty was right in front of him and he jumped back and knocked his head into the corner of the cabinet door.

“God fucking damn it, Morty! What do you want?” He hissed, holding his temple. Inspecting for blood he pulled his palm away. There wasn’t any, and it probably wouldn’t even bruise, but it didn’t feel too great. Rubbing his head, he leered into his grandson’s space.

“I want you to pay attention to me, Rick.” He said it like he was talking about the weather.

“Yeah, Morty. Kinda got that. B-B-But too bad you’re so stupid you don’t realize that’s precisely what I’ve been doing and it’s been causing me—urp—nothing but problems. I-I can’t get you out of my fucking head, _Morty_. I-I-I-I’ve got more important think about then your dumbass.”

Morty titled his head to the side, a smile curling the sides of his mouth. “My dumbass or my dumb ass, Rick?”

“You little shit,” Rick slammed his hands on either side of the boy, trapping him against the counter, “you’ve been—” Rick’s brain short circuited when Morty’s legs fell open and bucked against the empty space between them, “y-y-y-y-y-you’ve been _fucking_ with me, Morty, haven’t you? _Haven’t you?_ ” Rick growled into his ear. “The Ricks in the club. Y-You knew it would drive me fucking mad, didn’t you? Seeing you getting fondled by those fuckers. A-A-And then that girl. Y-You didn’t really—that piece of shit who abducted you wasn’t your fault but _fuck_ —a-a-a-and ‘no, Rick, I have no idea how this girl got into my lap, gosh darn it, she just tripped and fell right into there, can you believe it?’ and you _said_ something to that shitty hipster barista Rick. I know you fucking did, Morty. ‘Oh, yes, please come on break and then cum in me. Right in front of my Rick, too.’ Well, I almost killed that bastard, Morty. I’m sick of you fucking with me, kid.

At that, Morty ghosted his fingers up Rick’s arms and trailed down to his chest and sides before curling around his hips and lightly tugging them closer to his.

“W-W-Well I haven’t exactly been uh, _f-fucking with you_ ," his pink tongue darted across his lips, “ _yet._ ”

He snapped away and stared out the kitchen window, pretending to ignore Morty as he heard his daughter, her idiot, and his less sexualy frustrating grandkid thunder down the stairs, chatting excitedly about the movie.

“Okay, Morty, are you ready to go? And Dad, are you sure you don’t want to come with?” Beth asked without looking at them, searching around in her purse.

Jerry groaned in annoyance. “ _No,_ Beth, he already said no. Stop inviting him.”

Summer didn’t look up from texting, “grandpa would probably make the movie better.”

“Hey! This movie is gonna be kickass and you know it.”

“Not according to the internet.”

Rick shand started shooing his family out the door. “No, I’m fine. A-And Morty here just told me he was going to help me with a very important science thing.”

Beth frowned, “oh, okay.”

Summer looked at them funny, “so you two are talking, again?”

Rick groaned and stared actively pushing the three of them out the door. “Yes, yes. Morty just fucked something up and I was pissed, b-but now he’s gonna make it up to me big time by helping me clean up the mess he made. Isn’t that right, _Morty_?” The family didn’t know the predatory look he shot the boy over his shoulder. Morty knew his virgin ass didn’t have much time left on planet earth.

“Y-Yeah. I-I’m gonna do Grand—do stuff with Grandpa Rick. Heh. I-I didn’t really wanna see that movie anyway.”

“Well, have fun you too,” Beth called as Rick shoved them out the door.

“Oh, we will,” he said, waving good-bye and dropping his voice.

 

* * *

 

Rick was on him before the door slammed closed.

Grabbing two fistfuls of that little, squirming ass Rick tugged Morty against him. Their groins ground together and elicited delighted squeals and pleasured gasps from Morty. Wanting to be closer, Rick hefted his grandson up by his ass and hummed low in his throat when he felt those two quivering legs wrap around him for dear life. Morty’s arms followed, looping around his grandfather’s neck and fisting the nape of silvery hair.

“Yeah, baby,” Rick encouraged. He roughly kneaded his grandson’s tight ass as he maneuvered them over to the couch. He pried Morty’s legs and arms off him and let him flop into the couch. Smirking, he bent down and tilted Morty’s chin between his fingers before capturing his lips.

It was everything he wanted and more. Morty was soft, eager, and sweet. He moaned and bucked like he'd never been touched before, like the virgin he was—a thought that made his cock twitch harder. Rick prodded at the boy’s lips, barely even nibbling on them before he was granted access. Morty opened his mouth up and drank in everything Rick had to give him. As Rick nudged him until the back of his head hit the couch, Morty hungrily accepted every nudge and swipe of tongue. Rick pulled away for a brief second to catch a breath and was back on Morty twice as intense. Ravaging his mouth, appreciating every arousing whimper and whine he wrung from the boy beneath him. He savored the taste, never wanting to forget it, never wanting to pull away.

Rick dictated everything and Morty couldn't be happier. For so long he’d been wanton, begging, _feverish_. He thought of his grandfather’s gnarled, commanding hands taking him apart and pleasuring him with years of experience occupied his mind nonstop for months. Every withering look and last-second hoist away from danger had Morty’s pulse racing and dick swelling in anticipation.

The time with the Ricks wasn’t even intentional. He just found himself surrounded by a slew of tactile men who perfectly resembled his grandfather whom he was currently lusting after. So why wouldn’t he take advantage of the situation? It was nice to be paid attention to, and despite how their voices mimicry his grandfather’s, they still weren’t _his_. No substitute could ever replace his Rick.

But then, Morty discovered something almost as good.

The jealously that flared behind Rick’s eyes as he wrenched his grandson away from the wandering fingers and tongues of dopplegangers. Morty had cum more than a couple of times imagining that scene playing out a little differently. Rick tugging him out of the arms of the strangers and fucking him over the bar. He’d make everybody watch as his cock disappeared into Morty’s tight, pink hole. And he wouldn’t let Morty cum until he did, biting on his neck and making him scream as they climaxed together.

After that, Rick would pull out of him and catch the cum leaking out of Morty’s slippery hole and make his grandson suck his fingers clean. Then he’d carry Morty, still naked, back to the ship, and tell him what a good little slut he was, and how sorry he was he couldn’t take his virginity every single night. But he’d make up for it each night by fucking Morty until his hole was puckered and sore.

Morty moaned as Rick pulled away, “p-please don’t stop, Rick, I-I-I need to be fucked so bad.” As if he needed to prove himself he reached down and palmed the tent in his pants.

Biting his lip to restrain himself, Rick crawled off Morty and stood up, chanting his hips invitingly. Lightly but eagerly, he pulled Morty’s hands against his groin and rubbed them appreciatively over the hardness his slacks barely contained.

“Oooh, fuck, you feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. The things I want to do to you,” Rick pulled his hands away as he felt Morty groping him on his own. He moaned at the sensation and rutted further into the small hands. “I-I don’t even know where to start. I wanna-wanna fuck your face. I wanna cum all over it, and then I want you to lick it all up. Every last drop. Grandpa’s cum is a gift. Are you gonna treasure it, Morty?”

Morty answered by burying his face into the fabric tenting Rick’s hot groin. Mouthing wetly and the head, he rubbed his cheek all all the shaft and crooked his nose into the underside, inhaling the musky scent as his cock twitched.

Rick chuckled and clicked his tongue, trying to sound in control. Like he totally didn’t want to rib his pants off and shove his cock balls deep down his grandson’s throat.

He wanted to draw this out as long as possible. Take his time unraveling his grandson.

“And the question isn’t if I’m going to fuck you, but how,” Rick growled, “I could bare-back you. W-Watch my dick slip in and out of your little pucker. _Fuck,_ that would be hot, babe, seeing your asshole cling to every inch of girth. I-I’m fucking _big,_ Morty. You can feel it, can’t you babe? Well it’s feel even bigger ramming into you. You ever put fingers in your asshole, Morty? Don’t answer that—I-I don’t think I could handle the image without busting in my pants. Doesn’t matter. You would’ve had to have shoved your hole fucking fist in there to compare to my cock. You think you can handle it, huh, Morty? Think you can take all ten inches of your grandpa?”

Nodding vigorously, Morty reached his fingers up, unbuttoned, unzipped, and groaned as Rick shoved his face against his cock. Even still clothed under his briefs, the friction of fabric between his throbbing member and the promise of one of his grandson’s holes made him pre.

He had to look away from the sight of his boy slipping off the couch and resting on his knees before him, worshipping his cock like it was the idol at an altar and Morty was the repenting sinner.

“Or maybe I should make you straddle my hips. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby boy? Hmm? Bouncing up and down on your grandpa’s cock, moaning like a little whore? Ooh, but your little legs couldn’t handle it for long, huh? I’d have to thrust into you the whole way. Y-Your legs would give out and you would slip aaaaall the way down my cock. You’d be fucking speared on it and every time you think you’d be free I’d slam you back down and bury you to the base again. And you’re gonna take it, too, because you’re a fucking _slut_ who’s been flaunting his twink body around for just anybody to fuck. Well, Morty, once I have you, I’m never letting you go. Do you hear me? No one else is _ever_ going to be able to fuck you, Morty. Nobody will even be able to come _close_ to you, they’ll be so overwhelmed by the scent of my cum. You’re gonna reek of me, Morty. I’m gonna— _fuck_ —” Morty had pried Rick’s shaft from the confines of his underwear and was now sliding his lips and velvet mouth up and down the length. As he did it, he rocked with his whole body, using movement from his thighs and core to propel him up and down the dick.

“Ohhh~hh,” Rick breathed and fisted the boy’s curls, “you’re being real good for Grandpa, Morty. Such a good little cocksucker. B-Best thing your mouth has ever done—only thing your mouth should ever be doing.” He chanced a look down and groaned. The sight of his little grandson trying so hard to swallow all his cock—poor boy couldn’t even get half of it down before gagging—made Rick reconsider fucking his ass and his deepthroating him right there. But this was Morty’s first time—another thought that made Rick’s hips betray his control and inch forward, chasing pleasure into the welcoming heat—and Morty deserved to be fucked and not choked. Although the kid was so wanton he could probably nut from just sucking his grandfather off. But that was something Rick would try later. He smirked and more softly carded his fingers through his hair, gently guiding Morty off.

“Up.” Rick said in answer to the kid’s questioning gaze and glistening, cock-swollen lips. Morty scrambled up as Rick started tugging off layer after layer of his clothing. He started with the shirt and pushed Morty until he was lying lengthwise on his back on the couch.

Going back to kissing him, Rick ran his hands over every inch of grandson’s small chest. Stopping briefly at the nipples, he twisted them both between his fingers and pulled off his lips so he could relish in the little high-pitched whimpers ripping from his throat.

Not wanting to miss anything, Rick started kissing down Morty’s neck. He sucked and nipped on every side, only biting in places beneath his neckline. Worrying each nipple with his mouth, he trailed his hands down Morty’s ribs, counting each of them and wrapping around his sides, squeezing and teasing. As he switched nipples, his hands moved down Morty’s stomach and stopped right before the waistline of his jeans.

Skipping over the fly entirely, Rick cupped all of Morty’s cock and both balls with one rough hand.

Rick groaned appreciatively and said, “you’ve been hard like this a lot for me, haven’t you, Morty? Imagining me touching you. Well, Morty, h-how does it compare to the real thing?” He smirked up at his grandson whose face was knitted tight in pleasure.

“I-I-It-It feels good, Rick,” Morty was lucky his brain could even string that sentence together.

“Just ‘good’, Morty?” Teased Rick. “By the end of the night, I’m gonna have you cock-stupid.”

“ _Fuck, God,_ s-stop talking about it and just fuck me,” yelped Morty as he tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair and shoved him against his crotch.

Chuckling, Rick leaned back on his haunches and tugged Morty’s pants down. “S-So eager to lose your cherry, babe? I’m gonna fucking enjoy splitting you apart.” Rick yanked the pre soaked briefs down in one fluid motion and almost came at the sight of his grandson spreading his legs as wide as he could, inviting him in.

Rick captured all of Morty’s cock in his hand and swallowed it down to the root, tonguing his balls tensed tight. His eyes rolled back as the aroma of teenage need and fervid desire filled his nostrils. Pulling off with an obscene pop, Rick moved down and swiped his tongue along the pucker of Morty’s opening. His mouth watered at the taste and his grandson’s ass only wriggled closer, drawing him in deeper.

“Yes, Rick, _ahh~hhn~_ , j-just like that, _oo~oh_ ,” Morty whimpered and clutched the couch cushions.

Coating his ass with a liberal amount of saliva, Rick carefully inched the first finger in.

“W-W-What do you think, babe? Two or three? Shit, we should probably put four in you,” and in a very unlike Rick fashion, he miserably whined, “don’t know if I wanna wait that long,” he teased. Spitting on his middle finger, he pushed alongside the first, spreading the moisture deeper, prodding the walls apart and scissoring him open.

Morty probably couldn’t even comprehend the question. “ _O-Oooh~ hhaa~ng_ , d-deeper, Rick, _hh~o_ —” he was cut off as Rick suddenly jabbed his fingers into the bundle of nerves. “Fuck! Rick, d-do that againnn—” Rick grinned as his pistoned shallowly, hitting the prostate every time. Slathering more saliva around the opening, Rick pulled out all the way and plunged back in with a third finger. Twisting and fanning them out, expertly opening Morty up.

“You think you’re ready? T-Think you can take grandpa’s cock?” Morty nodded eagerly and started tugging at Rick’s clothes.

Pulling away, Rick removed his clothing, which he had left mostly on up until this point, too distracted with the writhing body beneath him. His cock hung like a lead rod, thick and red and uncut. Morty grabbed the back of his knees and splayed himself as open as he possibly could.

Moving slowly, Rick leaned his cock against the cleft of his ass and teased. He pushed his hand into Morty’s mouth, not even needing to tell the boy to get sucking before his hand was already being taken into that wet heat and slathered with spit. Satisfied and finally willing himself to take his hand out of that mouth, Rick gripped his cock, coated it, and rubbed the remainder on the clenching pucker.

With as much resistance as he could muster, he eased the tip in and stopped there, hoping the tight ring of muscle would give a little more with time. Careful not to moved his hips, he leaned over Morty and captured his lips again, sliding their tongues and focusing on the sweet sensation of being flushed against each other, almost attached.

After a minute of biting Morty’s lips, Rick exhaled and hefted his hips forward. Morty urged him on, even as his fingers clawed at Rick’s back and his legs twisted, trying to get away from the length that would almost surely break him in two.

Rick grunted as he was buried to the hilt. Every inch was total, enrapturing pleasure, and it took everything in him to wait and not thrust madly in and out.

Beneath him, Morty panted.

“ _O-o~oh_ , Rick, y-y-you’re,” he swallowed hard, “y-y-you’re so buh-big, _hoo~ohn_.” Then Morty started sliding his hips back and forth. It was shallow, and definitely gorgeous, but definitely not enough for Rick. He wouldn’t even have to angle. The sheer size of his length forced Morty’s walls apart as far as they could go. They squeezed and clung to every delicious inch. Even his prostate was being stimulated on every light thrust. Already he felt like he was on the edge. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Rick started thrusting on his own.

And then he did.

Rick pulled out almost all the way then snapped his hips forward. And again, and again. A fast, uneven pace, just to drive Morty mad.

“ _Yea~h_!” Rick praised as he thrust, “Fuck, yes! Morty, you’re so _fucking tight._ D-D-Do you know what this feels like? I-I-I-I-It’s like putting a hammer inside a keyhole!”

Twining his fingers with Morty’s, he pinned them above his head as he drove in slower but longer thrusts, just enough to give Morty some time to articulate before his prostate was jammed again.

“Y-You’re loving this, aren’t you, Morty? Like the fucking slut you are.”

Morty nodded weakly, his head lolling to the sides as his nerves were overwhelmed with pleasure.

“I want to hear you say it, Morty,” Rick snarled and sped up his thrusts. “Say it! Say you’re a cockslut!”

Morty’s body was so alight with pleasure he was reduced to a babbling mess. “Y-Yes, Rick, I’m— _hoo~yes_ , I-I-I’m a slut, Rick. I’m _your_ slut. O-O-Oh~—O-Only want you, grandpa. J-Just you. _Ahh~nn~fffuck_.”

Rick absolutely wrecked the boy. Wildly thrusting, his balls slapped against Morty’s ass with every smack. “That’s right. Nobody else, Morty. No other Ricks are _ever_ gonna get to have you like this. Just me, baby. Because you’re _mine_ , Morty. Y-You’re _my_ baby boy and only _I_ get to fuck you. But don’t worry, baby. I know you’re a slut. You’ll get so much cock from me you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself. Your ass is gonna be sore everyday from me. Maybe I’ll give you a break one day and use that mouth of yours, but everyday, Morty, every day I’m filling one of your holes with my cum.”

“ _Ohh~nnng~_ l-l-l-let me cum, grandpa. I-I-I wanna cum. _Oooooh~_! Please, can I cum?” Morty pleaded.

Rick dipped down and kissed him hard.

“O-Open your eyes, Morty. You have to look at me when you do it, baby. D-Don’t close them.”

Morty moaned and nodded. His thin hips matched Rick’s thrusts, pleasure coiling in his lower regions as he raced toward his own orgasm.

“ _Ooh_ , yeah~!” Rick howled as he thrust. Losing control he slammed in and out relentlessly. He felt his orgasm twisting hot in his gut. His drew up tight against his shaft and he squeezed Morty’s hands for dear life.

“Cum for me, Morty.”

His grandson’s climactic face was the thing that drove him to orgasm. Before he saw it, he thought he had a good nother handful of thrusts. But then he saw the exquisite ecstasy overtake his grandson’s features and he came in him with one last thrust, spilling himself as deeply inside as he could reach. Morty dragged out both their orgasms, still working his ass around the shaft, milking Rick for every last drop of cum.

Rick caught his breath and pressed a kiss to Morty’s lips. As he pulled out, he rearranged them on the couch so he was cradling Morty’s tiny body with his. Neither of them cared as their rapidly cooling, sweat-slicked and cum-sticky bodies slid against each other. They just basked in the afterglow, exchanging kisses and fond nose wiggles Rick realized he actually adored giving.

As they came down, arms wrapped around each other, gazing sweetly at the other, a single giggle from Morty turned into full laughter from both of them and soon Rick was pulling Morty up from the couch and tickling his sides as they stumbled up the stairs into the shower before the family got home.

“We gotta wash up. Y-You smell like you’ve been fucked six ways from saturn.”

Completely blissed out, Morty hummed and leaned his weight against Rick. “Y-You should go g-grab the clothes.”

Rick turned on the shower, ruffled Morty’s hair, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good thinking, babe. Th-that would be a pretty hard one to explain.” Rick left the bathroom and called from the living room: “And don’t start without me! I want to watch that cum slip out of your ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to everybody over on my tumblr who suggested scenarios! I couldn't have done it without you guys =)


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